The Quest for Clana
by aforgottenwish
Summary: Some people hate them together, some love them that way. Set during Promise, this is your one chance to decide how the wedding day ends up. Choose your own adventure, in its rawest form, gives you a chance to decide: does Clark get the girl?
1. Chapter 1

_Smallville_ and all of its related elements are copyright © 2001 - 2007 Tollin-Robbins Productions, WB Television and DC Comics. Superman created by Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster.

A/N Okay, here's the deal. Many of us (though we may not admit it...) used to read Goosebumps or Animorphs (no? Okay, just me then.). The series came with a goody every now and again... called Choose your own Adventure.

So what I have here, is my own version. It's not done yet, but I'm working on it, and I think it will be quite exciting once its done.

Choose what you want the characters to do, and use the little dropdown menu to find the chapter it tells you to go to. Since its still incomplete, the chapter you want might not be there. Be patient; it's coming soon.

1

Clark spent the majority of his life balanced on the edge of a knife. Indecision was almost a constant state for him, always teetering between telling Lana, loving Lana, letting go of Lana…

And here he was again. He could hear a car driving slowly down his driveway, and he could tell that it was her, by the rhythm of her heart beat and the little puff of air that she always emitted before she geared herself up to do something. He turned around and glanced through the loft wall, and this confirmed it—Lana was here, in her old maroon SUV, as if this wasn't her wedding day.

As if she were just dropping by—like old times.

Her hair was swept up and curly, and her face was carefully made up; she looked more gorgeous than he had seen her in a long time. But he could remember when she looked even more beautiful than she did now… and his heart just about shattered thinking about it.

It had been that night; that glorious night when they had finally let themselves give in to the magnetism that had been drawing them together for so long. He had woken up with her next to him, and her makeup had been smudged, and her hair was an impressive nest on the side of her head, but she had glowed.

He stood up and moved down the stairs from the loft, into the barn. He left the barn, not wanting to force her to dirty herself with the dank odours and dusty aura of the barn. He leaned against the door frame of the barn and watched her put the car into park and descend slowly onto the ground. She wasn't wearing her wedding dress, which would obviously be very impractical for driving, but instead was dressed casually.

Only her upswept hair and perfectly lined eyes gave away that today was anything different.

Lana watched him standing there, not looking at all surprised to see her; in fact, for once his face betrayed nothing of what he was thinking. She could feel her old feelings for him welling up in her, and wondered, not for the first time, if she could go through with this.

That she had told Lex about her residual feelings for the home-grown farm boy, and that Lex still wanted to marry her only heightened her doubt. What kind of man would settle for being second best? There were two options, one of them comforting, and the other too twisted to contemplate.

It was entirely possible that Lex loved her. He loved her so much that he was willing to look over every one of her flaws, right down to the tiny flaw of loving another man. He felt like a safety net to her, as if he could catch her every time she was knocked down off of Clark's pedestal.

On the other side of this baffling blade was the very same scenario that Clark had proposed in the barn.

She was his trophy. Lex wanted what Clark had: a loving family, the beautiful girlfriend—Lex had devoted much time into researching Clark, as if somehow, being happy was something that science could reveal.

This wasn't exactly something that he could ask him.

So she ended up here, at Clark's barn, her last ditch attempt to make sense of her puzzling love life.

She walked up to him hesitantly—since he had kidnapped her she had tried to keep her distance from him, talking to him only from several feet away, avoiding him when she could. However, she was unsure of whether this was because his dragging her away from her engagement dinner had scared her, or if the kiss had scared her. Perhaps, she mused, if she got too close, the feeling that had accompanied the kiss—the longing, the desire—would return.

She had been hurt by him too often to hope that it would, no matter how _right_ it felt.

"Clark," she said softly. She wasn't sure about how she should proceed from here—on the drive over she'd run every possibility through her head, rehearsed her reasoning, practiced her speech. Everything broke down in this moment, and she let slip the first thing that came into her head.

"Tell me why you lied."

Clark gazed across at her, but said nothing. The desperation in her voice was apparent. She was looking for a way out. He remembered his determination when he had said to his mother _"I can't let her marry him._" He thought of how they'd tried, so many times, to salvage their relationship, and there had always been one thing that came in the way.

His secret.

"It's complicated," he finally said, still balanced on that knife—he could tell her or he could shut her down, send her back to her groom.

"Give me some credit, Clark," Lana said, anger laced in her tone. "I'm a smart girl."

"If I tell you," he said, "you might change your mind about the wedding. You might want to try again, pull our relationship back to life, and you know it's too late for that. You have a baby; that changes everything."

"I need to know the truth," she breathed. "I need to know that your love for me wasn't the lie. You owe me that."

He had felt, recently, her proximity to his secret, how she was skimming the surface of it before she dived in. He did, he thought, owe her something.

GO TO CHAPTER 2 IF: he tells her everything.

GO TO CHAPTER 3 IF: he tells her nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

_Smallville_ and all of its related elements are copyright © 2001 - 2007 Tollin-Robbins Productions, WB Television and DC Comics. Superman created by Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster.

_Buffy the vampire slayer _and all of its related elements belong to Fox, the WB and Joss Whedon.

2

She had moved much closer to him than either one of them had realized and he could see into the depths of her deep brown eyes with stunning clarity.

He knew that now was the worst possible time for time to tell her everything—she was getting married to Lex Luthor, who would want to study Clark, to exploit him in every way possible, if he found out.

But she was right—he did owe her something. He owed her a choice.

"Are you expecting what I tell you to change how you feel about me?" he asked, bluntly. "Are you expecting it to change what's going to happen today?"

Lana broke eye contact with him, glancing, instead, at the ground near his feet. She loved him, she knew that, and she also knew that they didn't work. But she felt, more than anything, like the reason that they hadn't worked out was because of this secret—that Clark had pushed her away in a vain attempt to protect her, or to protect himself.

She knew the intensity of Clark's feelings toward her, and because of that, she knew that whatever it was, it was big. She wasn't sure if it was life shatteringly big, or end of the world big, or even big in a way that would permanently change how she thought of him—but she knew it was big.

"I don't know," she said honestly. "But the end of our relationship—and most of the relationship itself—is still a big question mark to me. I need answers."

"This is going to be your choice, Lana," he said slowly. "Because I need to know if what you're looking for is closure, so that you can hate me and go on with your life, or a reason to let yourself fall back into mine."

GO TO CHAPTER 4 IF: she wants to move on.

GO TO CHAPTER 5 IF: she wants to let herself love him.


	3. Chapter 3

_Smallville_ and all of its related elements are copyright © 2001 - 2007 Tollin-Robbins Productions, WB Television and DC Comics. Superman created by Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster.

_Buffy the vampire slayer _and all of its related elements belong to Fox, the WB and Joss Whedon.

3: Clark's choice (6 or 7)

She had moved much closer to him than either one of them had realized and he could see into the depths of her deep brown eyes with stunning clarity.

What those eyes showed him was not what he had expected. He saw the beauty, empathy and unearthly magnetism that he had always seen in her eyes, but there was something else, too.

It was cunning; a byproduct, no doubt, of her relationship with the master of deception and lies. Lex Luthor had changed her, and Clark had noticed it before; he had pushed those changes into the back of his mind and allowed himself to keep loving her. But now, with her standing here, decked out in her expensive hairdo and self-righteous expression, he realized how different she really was.

Her actions over the past few months snapped into the forefront of her mind with astonishing clarity, and in that minute, her crimes and the crimes of her significant other became one. They were joining themselves in a church, so that both the law and the Lord would recognize them as a single entity.

"You gave up on me," he said, laughing in a bitter, devastated way. "And, as bizarre as it may sound to you, you were the one who let me down. I told you that I had secrets. I was honest about that, and you chose to lead me on, when you knew that you wouldn't be satisfied until you had every part of me."

Lana stepped back, slightly shocked that Clark had strung together such an embittered sentence.

"You still loved me, but you gave up on me. You gave up when you gave up on yourself.

"I can't believe that you still have self-respect when you put poison into your body, when you _kill _yourself, so that you can feel loved; when you're so desperate to feel trusted that you put your faith in a man like Lex Luthor.

"You know what he does, how he's been capturing meteor infected people and experimenting on them—I wouldn't believe you if you told me that you didn't know what he did to Chloe."

He took a deep breath before he continued. "You gave up on me when you slept with another man," he finished, nearly spitting this last sentence at her. "So, no; I don't owe you anything."

At some point, Lana had felt herself crumple, and a tear rolled down her powdered face, leaving a trail of washed off makeup.

"Clark," she whispered. "You told me you didn't love me."

"You told me you always knew when I lied," he said, his stony expression finally melting away. His eye brows pinched together, and Lana could see that the cost of what he had said was high. He was hating himself right now, and she could see that maybe he was hurting more than she was.

She stumbled backward, not wanting to look at those broken eyes any longer. She was burning inside—burning with curiosity, anger and regret. She wanted to know, more than ever, what he kept so fiercely inside, because it was tearing him up with staggering brutality.

"Lana," he called out. She managed to turn herself around, and moved, haltingly, toward her car. "I hope someday you'll be happy," he said.

One hand managed to make it to the handle of her car, and she turned back to him, one last time, and wished, more than anything, that things could be different.

"Someday," she started, "will you be happy?"

Clark grinned, and it was _that_ grin; the one that exhibited honesty that most people would never experience in the course of their lives. "Someday," he confirmed.

GO TO CHAPTER 6 IF: She has second thoughts before she leaves.

GO TO CHAPTER 7 IF: She gets in the car.


	4. Chapter 4

_Smallville_ and all of its related elements are copyright © 2001 - 2007 Tollin-Robbins Productions, WB Television and DC Comics. Superman created by Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster.

_Buffy the vampire slayer _and all of its related elements belong to Fox, the WB and Joss Whedon.

4: Lana moves on (8 or 9)

"What I need are answers," Lana said, "not another chance at a doomed relationship."

Lana's heart was breaking as she said this, but she loved Lex—never with the same passion or assurance as the love she'd had for Clark, but it was safe. If she didn't give Lex as much of herself, then he could never tear her heart apart the way Clark had done.

In that moment, Clark knew what he had to do. He took every feeling that he'd ever had for Lana, every moment, every stolen kiss, and pushed it away. He put it deep in the back of his mind, in a place for him to return to later, when he was assured that Lana would never drift back to him. What remained was a steamy void, dark and ominous, and a perfect base on which to construct one last lie.

She watched as Clark's face changed. Before, it had been stony, but it was apparent that he was struggling to keep it that way. Suddenly, his face became blank. His eyes darkened and no longer betrayed that hint of sadness that she'd always been able to see before.

It scared her.

"The truth is going to hurt," he said. His voice had changed too—it was harsher; it did not give even a hint of what he was feeling.

"The lies hurt more," she retaliated.

He laughed, and Lana flinched—a laugh had been the last thing she'd been expecting from him. "I sincerely doubt that," he replied.

"I told you once that the Clark Kent you knew was a lie," he said. "And, to be perfectly honest, that was probably the only thing I ever said to you that wasn't a lie."

He wet his lips slowly, and forced himself to look into her eyes, despite the confusion and pain that darted through them. Now, though, he felt nothing—he forced himself to feel nothing.

"The rest of the world has always been different than me," he said. "Everyone else had these inherent reactions and emotions that my brain wasn't physically equipped to handle: happiness, love, sadness…" His voice was hard, and he hoped that it was hard enough, that he was portraying the correct amount of apathy into his speech. "Not to mention the differences in my physicality: I could always run faster, jump higher, hit harder. It became clear that I was… unique.

"This world that I was shoved into, it was fragile in every way imaginable. Everything I touched would break, and I adapted by learning to control my abilities. The more perplexing facet of fragility was the way people acted. If I said what I was thinking, or didn't react correctly or portray the right emotion, their faces would crumple. Where I come from, what people say and do don't hurt nearly as much.

"I was beginning to be able to tell that if I continued to act in the way that I had been genetically created to act that I would soon be alone among these humans," he paused, letting Lana take a moment to contemplate his wording; to think about the disgust with which he said the word.

"So I learned to display emotions the way that the rest of the world did. I studied people and learned what I should say to them to make them accept me." He smiled. "I studied you. You were transparent like glass—what you needed to hear was written all over your face.

What Clark was saying didn't make sense. She _knew_ Clark; she had spent so much time with him, she had loved him, he had saved her life so many times. Her knees started to shake and she wished that she had something to sit down on, so she settled for propping herself up against the barn.

"I don't understand," she muttered. "I don't understand what you're saying."

"I'm not exactly from around here," he said. Her eyes were fixed straight ahead of her, as if looking at his blank face was too much for her to handle. That his voice, uncaring, continued to breach her consciousness was painful enough.

"I'm from a planet called Krypton," he continued. "I believe you met others of my kind shortly after the second meteor shower."

He watched as her head slowly moved towards him, and she looked horrified. Lana thought of those people, the ones that had come out of the ship, and their cruel, demanding voices—so like Clark's was, right now. She remembered their violence, and that they had been looking for something—someone.

"They asked you to bring them to someone, didn't they?" he asked, sounding condescending. "Do you remember?"

"Kal-el," she whispered. "I told them I'd bring them to Kal-el."

"Around here," he said, smiling a charming, emotionless smile, "I usually go by Clark. But they couldn't be expected to know that."

Lana pushed herself away from the wall, away from him, away from his sharp, taunting words. "This isn't you," she said, her voice shaking, anger and fear laced in every word. "You loved me," she whispered.

"It's a simple matter of the human hierarchy," he responded. "I chose you because you were physically appealing, well liked, and, until recently at least, very easy to manipulate. No one wants to be alone, Lana. That doesn't mean that they're in love. I mean, look at you and Lex. He's no more capable of love than I am."

Clark advanced on her, and she continued to shuffle backward until she tripped and landed hard on the gravel. Clark kneeled down in front of her, but instead of offering her a hand he kept talking. "I learned the hard way that to keep people happy, one has to pretend they care, say what people want to hear, and never, ever let anyone see what's really behind the mask."

"Clark," she said, a sob threatening to burst through the walls she had erected, "stop acting like this."

"Lana," he said, standing up and spreading his arms wide, "I've finally _stopped_ acting."

She sat silent for a long while, trying to force the lump out of her throat, trying to sort through the waterfall of emotions that were churning in her mind. She finally found the strength to voice a question—not an important one, but the only question that she thought she could stomach the answer to.

"All those things that they could do," she said, "you can do them too?"

He reached forward and touched her face. She flinched away at first, but then leaned into his hand, closing her eyes for a moment and pretending that the truth had never happened. "Open your eyes, Lana," he said.

They were on top of the church where the preparations for her wedding were being done. The sight was so completely beautiful and extravagant that Lana forced herself back into her day dream, and she was there, with Clark's arms around her, and it was their wedding; that Clark loved her and had never turned into this apathetic beast.

He placed a finger on her chin and turned her head toward a large oak tree near the altar of the outdoor setup. Suddenly, the tree had burst into flames, and Lana almost screamed; she watched in silent horror as people rushed to put out the fire, which, moments later, fluttered back into non-existence.

Ash fell onto the white isle.

A moment later, she was on the ground in front of the church, and Clark was gone.

GO TO CHAPTER 8 IF: Lana stays at the church.

GO TO CHAPTER 9 IF: Lana returns to have her say.


	5. Chapter 5

_Smallville_ and all of its related elements are copyright © 2001 - 2007 Tollin-Robbins Productions, WB Television and DC Comics. Superman created by Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster.

_Buffy the vampire slayer _and all of its related elements belong to Fox, the WB and Joss Whedon.

5: Lana wants truth (10 or 11)

"I need the truth, Clark," she said, "if it changes how I feel about you, then that's the way I was meant to feel. Who am I to question destiny?"

Cautiously, Clark took her hand and led her inside his house. He sat her down at their kitchen table, and took a seat close to hers. Every time he had imagined this, it had been so romantic—a glorious romp to the Fortress of Solitude, him asking for her hand in marriage, and him professing his love; it all seemed so inappropriate now. It was the morning of her wedding, for Christ's sake. She carried another man's child. This was not how he had wanted to tell.

"Have you ever felt like you're completely alone?" Clark asked. "Like maybe you're different than everyone else in some incomprehensible way that sets you apart?"

Lana looked up at him through her dark eye lashes and was amazed at Clark's ability to somehow piece together what was going on in her mind. "So often," she admitted. "After Nell left, I felt like everyone else in Smallville had these families that loved them, and I was alone."

"That must have been hard," Clark said. "I know you never felt quite at home living with Chloe."

Lana shook her head, amazed at Clark's ability to be empathetic, especially when whatever he was about to tell her, the circumstances that made him feel alone, were likely to be so much bigger. She could tell by the haunted look he had always carried.

Sighing, Clark continued. "I've never felt like I fit in, not really," he said. This was it, he told himself. The big plunge; the point of no return: "For as long as I can remember, I've been different. I was stronger and faster than any of the other kids. Over time, I learned that I was breaching the limits of human capability; when I was ten I could run faster than anyone else in the world."

Lana's eyes were wide, amazed, and still so curious. She didn't say anything, but stared, imploring him to continue.

"That day on the bridge, when Lex crashed his car, it really changed my life," Clark continued. He had hesitated, only a moment, before mentioning her fiancé's name, as if the reminder would break the amicable spell that had come over the two of them.

"His car hit me, Lana," he said, "going sixty miles an hour. He crashed into me, and then through the cement barrier and then I fell into the water after the car. It was then that I realized how impossible my situation was. I could run faster than a car, easily lift one over my head, and now, apparently, be run through a cement wall by a car."

"All those times," Lana said, "you've been there, haven't you? How many times have you saved my life?"

"It doesn't matter," Clark replied, refocusing his eyes on her. "I couldn't let anything happen to you." Lana continued to stare, looking at his arms, his chest, as if they looked different now that she knew what they were capable of.

"I thought maybe," she said, "it was the meteor rocks. The chisel that crumpled when Lex hit you; how you always manage to save me—I knew something was different. I knew you were special. But Tobias said… he said that you weren't meteor infected."

"That's because I'm not," Clark said, slowly. "It's easier if I show you," he muttered. He couldn't imagine bringing her to the Fortress now; the winds would mess her hair and the cold would make her eyes water and her make-up would smudge.

"Show me?" Lana asked.

"It's nothing," he said, dismissively. "Lana, I arrived in Smallville the day of the meteor shower." He leaned in towards her, and spoke slowly, deliberately. "I arrived _with_ the meteor shower."

Lana recoiled from him, and Clark let his eyes drop shut—he knew that this had been a bad idea; she had loved him, last time, and she had accepted him. But now, so much had happened, and he knew that whatever residual feelings were there were tainted with remorse and loathing.

"When I was studying the meteor shower," she said, "there was something that didn't crash like the rest of the meteors."

"It sort of lands," Clark said, finishing off the sentence from the conversation they'd had long ago.

"I'm from a planet called Krypton," he said.

The silence that stretched in front of them was palpable. Clark stiffened, as if movement would procure a premature response from her. "Why didn't you tell me before?" she finally asked.

This time it was Lana who shifted uncomfortably in the silence, looking down at her lap. She didn't want to hear the answer she expected—that he hadn't been able to trust her, or that he hadn't loved her enough to let her know him that well. Other possibilities flitted through her head, but the one that she heard was the most frightening of all.

"I did tell you, Lana," he whispered. She looked up at him, and was shocked to see his face contort as he tried to hold his emotion in.

Anger pulsed through Lana more suddenly than she thought possible. "I think I would have remembered you telling me something like this," she hissed.

Clark jerked his head, as if she had slapped him. She softened slightly, and wondered if maybe—just maybe—he wasn't a little bit crazy. She'd never seen any blatant demonstration of these so called powers, and though she'd always sensed something different about him, perhaps it had been his deep seeded insanity that she had felt.

"Do you remember when that I promised you a day you'd never forget?" he said. He walked over to her and lifted her off her seat, holding her gently around the waist with one arm. Lana blinked, and they were in the loft; he placed her down and moved toward the window. He looked over his shoulder and grinned at the shocked look on Lana's face.

As soon as it had appeared, the smile disappeared, and he felt himself slip into memory. "It was a perfect day," he said softly. "It was a day I'll never forget."

"Clark," she said, firmly, "nothing happened that day."

"I took you to the Kawachee caves," he said, his eyes fluttering shut, "and then to my ice castle. It was beautiful… you were beautiful. You looked at me with this wondrous expression; I could feel how much you loved me." His eyes opened, and he tilted his eyes, appraising Lana with his sharp green eyes. He moved toward her, and caressed the side of her face with his hand.

Lana leaned into his hand and she closed her eyes and let Clark's words surround her.

"I asked you to marry me," he whispered. She could feel his breath on her ear, and found that she didn't care if he was making this up, or if it was some sort of dream. The emotions that accompanied his story, him even speaking those words, _marry me, _were almost overwhelming.

"What did I say?" she breathed.

"You said yes," he replied. "And I thought that life would be perfect from this day on—that nothing else mattered. Finally, I thought, we could be happy."

"What happened?" Lana asked, opening her eyes when she felt his hand jerk away from her. His face twitched slightly, as if his emotions were trying to escape.

There was such a long silence that Lana started to wonder if he'd actually heard the question. Finally, his eye brows pushed together, he formulated an answer. "You died," he said, so quietly that she barely heard it. "You died," he repeated, sounding shocked.

"No," she said, her chin rising in defiance. "I didn't die. I'm right here."

Clark continued as if she hadn't spoken; his words so loaded with pain that she wondered how it was he hadn't broken into tears.

"I was there, you know, on route 40," he said. "And I was holding your shattered body in my arms; you were so broken, and I couldn't hear your heart and there was—there was so much blood."

Lana's eyes widened as she remembered how Lex had chased her on route 40 and how, just before Lobe Bridge, she had slammed on the brakes and spun out of control.

"The blood," he stammered, "it was on my hands—it was my fault that you died. So many people risk their lives for my secret; that your life was gambled, and that we lost, it horrified me."

Lana moved away from him, and watched, amazed, as he continued his story.

"I couldn't leave things like that, Lana," he whispered. He was close to her now, and had dropped down to his knees in front of her. "I… I had the day erased."

"What?" Lana asked.

He looked away from her, and when he looked back, he had pushed those emotions away; seemed to have gained some sort of control over his features.

"My father," he explained, "Jor-el; my biological father I mean. I asked him to bring you back, and it was like… one moment I'm kneeling on the pavement, covered in your blood and completely unable to understand how your life could have been torn away so suddenly… and then I'm here." He moved back, to the spot behind the couch where he had been sitting, holding the graphite. "And you were there," he pointed to where she had walked up the stairs, "alive, and telling me that a mystery date wasn't what our relationship needed right now."

Standing across the room from him, Lana felt like she was worlds away from him. He didn't move, as if he was waiting for her to speak, but she didn't know what he was expecting her to say.

Suddenly, she understood; their failed relationship, the way he pushed her away any time she got close, his hesitation to touch her. The weeks after Clark had died had been almost impossible for her—every time she touched him she saw his pale, unconscious face; his body convulsing under the defibrillators; and the bed sheet being pulled over his head.

And she was faced, again, with a wave of indecision. She knew everything now, and perhaps, finally, with no secrets between them, they might have a chance at a relationship.

GO TO CHAPTER 10 IF: Lana goes back to the wedding.

GO TO CHAPTER 11 IF: Lana decides to stay.


	6. Chapter 6

_Smallville_ and all of its related elements are copyright © 2001 - 2007 Tollin-Robbins Productions, WB Television and DC Comics. Superman created by Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster.

6: She has second thoughts. (12 or 13)

She faltered, just long enough to let herself catch his eye one last time.

"Clark," she said, "I miss you, every day."

Stepping away from her car, she advanced on Clark. He stepped back, into the barn, not sure what she was doing. "Clark," she said again, saying his name as though it anchored her here, somehow, "Not a minute goes by that I don't regret how things ended between us."

The magnetism was amazing; Lana could feel herself being almost pulled toward him. She flew back in time, to when he loved her, and would hold her close; to when their bodies together felt completely right.

She pushed her life away, ignored the fact that it was her wedding day, that there was a man at home, waiting for her, and let her heart draw her closer. That Clark was retreating didn't bother her—she figured there was only so long that he could run before he gave into his own feelings.

Clark was terrified.

"This isn't how it was supposed to be," she whispered. "We were supposed to be together. I… I never stopped loving you, not for an instant."

It was then, that Clark realized. He couldn't keep up this halfway existence, and neither could Lana. He could easily see how it was confusing her, ripping her love in two, so that no one could ever have all of her.

And Clark knew how he had to end it.

GO TO CHAPTER 12 IF: he lets his common sense beat his heart down.

GO TO CHAPTER 13 IF: he foolishly lets his heart drag him back in time.


	7. Chapter 7

_Smallville_ and all of its related elements are copyright © 2001 - 2007 Tollin-Robbins Productions, WB Television and DC Comics. Superman created by Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster.

7: She gets in the car.

Lana pulled herself into her SUV and slid her legs into place. This wasn't easy, leaving him like this, but then again, nothing with Clark was ever easy.

The ride back home, back to the Luthor mansion, seemed to take forever. Every instant of it she told herself that she was doing the right thing. Every minute she convinced herself not to turn back.

She touched up her makeup. She had one of the drivers bring her to the church. Chloe helped her with her dress.

And when she walked down the isle, she didn't look back.

END.


	8. Chapter 8

_Smallville_ and all of its related elements are copyright © 2001 - 2007 Tollin-Robbins Productions, WB Television and DC Comics. Superman created by Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster.

8: Lana stays at the church.

Clark's words echoed in her mind.

For so long… she had loved him for so long. She'd trusted him, put her faith into him, and wished that he would open up to her so that they could finally be together. And when he'd broken up with her, he'd seemed so pained, so sincerely broken up about it.

Chloe approached from the road. "Lana," she called. Lana's head snapped up from where it had been fixed. She knew she was a mess, her makeup was smeared down her face and her hair was messy from the ride—the fly? The teleport?—from the farm.

"My God, Lana," Chloe said. She took Lana's arm and dragged her, stumbling and staring, into the church. Chloe pushed her into an empty room and shut the door tightly. "What happened?"

Lana looked at her hands; they were shaking. "Clark," she said. "He told me everything."

Chloe's eyes widened. "Are you okay? I mean, you don't look okay, you look hysterical, but you're okay, with him? With what he is?"

Chloe knew why Lana was so upset—she'd realized why Clark had given her up; why he had lied to her and told her that he didn't love her. She was devastated by what she'd lost; torn up by what they could have had together.

Lana's eyes, dark and clouded by tears, met Chloe's, and her next words shocked Chloe.

"He's a monster."

Q

It had taken Chloe nearly half an hour to fix Lana's makeup, but they'd needed to call in the professionals to redo her hair. Lex hadn't been around, so they hadn't needed to answer any awkward questions.

Chloe hadn't pushed Lana to talk about what had happened. That Lana couldn't accept Clark for who he was… it saddened Chloe, but she didn't know what she could do about it. Clark didn't deserve her if she couldn't see past the whole alien stigma.

So Chloe stood at the end of the isle and watched as Lana walked down the isle. She looked petrified, as if what Clark had told her weighed heavier than the impending nuptials. She saw Clark standing in the corner of the church, and she could see he'd been crying.

She knew, though, that the right choice had been made.

Lex and Lana deserved each other.

END


	9. Chapter 9

_Smallville_ and all of its related elements are copyright © 2001 - 2007 Tollin-Robbins Productions, WB Television and DC Comics. Superman created by Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster.

9. Lana returns to the farm.

Anger flooded into Lana like a dam collapsing after years of weathering. He had hurt her in every humane way possible—loved her and dumped her, made promises and lies, and now, he had run out of ways that made sense. Now, he was an emotionless alien that pursued her for her looks alone, played her like a marionette and discarded her without a second thought.

It was unimaginable.

She thought of those _things_ that had come out of the ship, how they had slaughtered humans without a second thought, and then she remembered what had hurt them.

The meteor rocks.

Her hand crept to her throat, where, for years, a stone had hung. It was bare now, and she turned her head toward the fields on either side of the church. On the right was Lander's field, where meteors from the second shower had landed.

She ran, tripping over the anomalies in the ground, until she saw the crater—lined with shining green rocks. She grabbed a smallish one—just large enough to be enclosed in her fist—and began running back to the church.

Chloe arrived as she did, stepping out of her car just as Lana got close. Lana took her keys from her hand in one deft swoop, apologized quickly and jumped into the car, locking the door. Shaking, she forced the key into the ignition and drove away.

It barely took any time to reach the Kent farm. Her driving was erratic, and she almost hit the SUV that was still waiting in the drive way. She was still breathing heavily from her last run, but she pushed herself onward. She ran into the barn and up into the loft, clutching the meteor rock in her hand.

As she reached the top of the stairs, she stopped.

Clark was curled up on his couch, his knees brought to his chest. There was a jagged hole in the barn wall opposite him and light shone through. It reflected off the wet trail that traced its way down one cheek.

He winced when he saw her, feeling the effects of the meteor rock already.

"You want me dead," he said, sounding devastated, but unsurprised. He sounded like Clark again—normal, brooding Clark Kent. He sounded like a human farm boy, not an alien.

"Is it an act now?" she asked. "You heard me coming and decided to bring on a few tears to confused me?"

He shrugged. "Wasn't really paying attention," he admitted. "Didn't notice you were here until you stomped up my stairs."

"So you act for yourself then," she stated. "You pretend to be human even when no one's here."

"Lana," he said softly. "Lana, go back to your wedding. Go be the beautiful bride that you were meant to be, but don't do this. Stop coming back to me. I haven't got anything to offer."

"All of that," she whispered, "_it_ was the act. Saying it was an act was the act. You're just Clark Kent, aren't you? You're no different than you've ever been."

"You said you wanted to move on," Clark pointed out. He looked down at his knees, and then unclasped his hands, letting his legs come down to the ground. "I thought hating me would make it easier."

She nodded slowly. "Yea," she said, "it would have."

She dropped the rock on the ground, and it rolled slightly before stopping just in front of her. Clark pulled back slightly, the pain too much coupled with the hurt of what he'd done.

Lana turned away from him and moved down the stairs, the rock between him leaving him unable to follow.

When she got back to the church, she enlisted Chloe and a dozen hired hands to help put her back together. She knew, somehow, that he had been trying to do the right thing, trying to let her get on with her life without him.

But even now, knowing what she knew, she couldn't force herself to stop loving him. Not the shadow of him, the Kal-el who took over for a brief span of time—that wasn't the real him. She loved Clark, but she knew that he understood better than anyone the consequences of them being together.

He was an alien, and he had the capacity to be just as cruel and destructive as those invaders had been. He didn't though—he saved lives, he helped on the farm and he loved; it was for those reasons that she believed that he would always be the same Clark Kent.

It was for those reasons that she would always love him—just a little.

END


	10. Chapter 10

_Smallville_ and all of its related elements are copyright © 2001 - 2007 Tollin-Robbins Productions, WB Television and DC Comics. Superman created by Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster.

10.

A tear dripped down her face.

"I can't," she whispered. "I'll always love you, Clark, no matter what happens, but I can't."

Clark didn't accept her answer, not at first. Before, though, his lines had been written for him—_Look at me, in the eye, and tell me that you don't love me_.

Now she had admitted it. She loved him. She always would. They couldn't be together.

"No more secrets," he said, grasping at the words that had brought her back to him before. "No more lies," he insisted.

"I can't," Lana repeated. She would never love Lex with the intensity that she loved Clark, she knew that now. But being with Clark, no matter how happy he made her sometimes, it was those other times that scared her. No one else, in the entire world, had the ability to hurt her so completely.

So she stood up and patted her hair self-consciously. She used her sleeve to pat the tear off her face. She walked down the loft steps for the last time.

Clark listened to her crying in her car. He watched her drive away, worried that the tears might have blurred her vision; that her distress may have distorted her judgment. She pulled out of the drive way much too quickly.

_She just wants to get back to Lex_, Clark told himself. He wondered if he'd ever be able to get Lana Lang out of his mind.

He attended the wedding. It was a beautiful event, if marred slightly by the pale bride—as she spoke those binding words a tear escaped from her eye and scurried down her face, blatant and shining for the audience to see.

He watched her kiss Lex and it struck him then—Lana Lang had ceased to exist. The woman that stood in her place, Lana Luthor, was a faded echo of the warm-hearted innocent he had once loved. That image, of her standing at the end of the isle, hand in hand with Lex Luthor, confirmed for him that he would never be able to feel for her again.

And he wondered if maybe this meant that he'd be able to move on.

END


	11. Chapter 11

_Smallville_ and all of its related elements are copyright © 2001 - 2007 Tollin-Robbins Productions, WB Television and DC Comics. Superman created by Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster.

_11._

"I love you," she whispered. Clark's eyes widened.

"I love you," she said again.

"What does this mean?" Clark asked.

"I can't marry Lex," she said slowly, as though it was only becoming apparent as she spoke the words.

A million questions jumped through Clark's mind; questions about Lex, the wedding, the baby… He loved Lana, so much, but if she had this baby Lex Luthor would have an eternal invitation into their lives. He knew what kind of a person Lex had become, but he couldn't imagine the pain of being abandoned by the person that you love on your wedding day. He had wanted, more than anything, for this moment to come, for Lana to realize that their love was strong and that they could still be together.

But he couldn't do it.

"I have to go," she said, flustered and suddenly excited. "I have to call off the wedding. I have to tell Lex, leave him a note, or call him, I need to go. I'll come back to you, I promise I will," she rambled.

She stood and rushed down the stairs of the loft. She couldn't think straight; there were things that needed to be done, people that needed to be called; she and Clark needed to elope. They should run away somewhere…

She reached the barn door, but Clark was standing in the doorway. For an instant, she wondered how he could have possibly gotten there so fast, and an accusation was on her lips and then she realized—he told her everything.

He was an alien. A super-speeding, time-warping alien; a gorgeous, humanoid alien; he was her alien.

"You're my alien," she muttered, a revelation.

"We can't do this, Lana," he replied, his voice calm and firm.

"What do you mean?" she asked. She was shocked that he'd even introduce the idea that they might not be meant to be together. After all this; after he'd finally trusted her with his secret; nothing stood between them now.

"You're confused," he said slowly, as though she were a little bit dumb. "I've told you too much at once. Your brain's been overloaded."

She shook her head, knocking a few curls loose.

"Lana, look at me," he said, grabbing her shoulders. "We can't do this."

"What do you mean?" she repeated.

"You have a fiancé. You have a baby on the way. You have responsibilities. I can't make you turn away from your life like this."

"You're not making me do anything, Clark," she said, suddenly angry. She jerked away from him, and wondered, for the first time, if she could have ever gotten loose if he hadn't decided to let her.

"After all this time," she continued, "you've told me everything. Doesn't that mean," she took a long, shuddering breath. "Doesn't that mean that you want to be with me?"

"I want you more than I've ever wanted anything," he said, his eyes dark and tragic. "But things have changed."

"You don't have to want me anymore, Clark," she said. "I'm here, I'm giving me to you."

"We can't," he insisted again. "I'll drive you back to the church."

"No," she said. Her voice was uncharacteristically low; anger pulsed vividly in that one word. "You can't do this to me, Clark."

"Lex is waiting for you," Clark said quietly.

"Don't do this, Clark," she repeated. "Don't shut me out again."

"Goodbye, Lana," he said.

He turned away from her and walked towards the house. Lana wondered why he didn't fly, or teleport or run really fast to the house instead. She wondered why she didn't go after him.

She got into her car and she sat there for a long time, wondering why he couldn't have opened up to her long ago, when they still could have had a chance to be together.

END


	12. Chapter 12

_Smallville_ and all of its related elements are copyright © 2001 - 2007 Tollin-Robbins Productions, WB Television and DC Comics. Superman created by Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster.

12.

Lana had been his first love. His infatuation for her had been intense and all consuming, overriding the feelings that he had had for every other girl he had dated.

They had tried, so many times, to make their relationship work. They had gotten back together after dramatic personality changes, many intermediate relationships and even after each party had died.

But they had always saved themselves for each other. Even though they'd dated, their hearts, their bodies and their souls had remained exclusive.

Lana had been the one to break that trust. She carried another man's child. No matter how much he loved the feeling of her body pressed against his; her voice telling him that she loved him; he knew that every great love had its breaking point.

"Someday," he repeated, "we'll both be happy."

He pushed her gently away from him and said, in a calm, removed voice, "Someday you'll be happy." He smiled sadly. "Just not with me."

He led her towards her car and then left her; she stood with one hand on the door handle, but this time she didn't hesitate. He watched her leave, and when she paused at the corner of the road and looked back, he raised on hand in farewell.

"Someday," he whispered. He turned away from the road, squared his shoulders and walked back into his house.

END


	13. Chapter 13

_Smallville_ and all of its related elements are copyright © 2001 - 2007 Tollin-Robbins Productions, WB Television and DC Comics. Superman created by Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster.

13.

He closed his eyes.

The feeling of her body, pressed against his own; how the rigidness of his stance prevented her from fitting properly; it brought him back.

He felt himself melting against her, and his arms, of their own volition wrapped around her.

He let his back curl forward so that every part of his body was touching her. She curved backward, pressing her hips up into him.

He inhaled, slowly, taking in her scent and the smell of hairspray and fresh makeup. He remembered sitting under a tree with her, and then, she had smelled of hay and horse, but that same undertone had been there. It was the smell that he dreamt about; the smell that he sometimes thought he recognized when he was in a public place and he'd stop in his place and look for her, no matter how unlikely it was that she'd be there.

He kissed her neck and relished her taste; wondered how skin could possibly taste so pure. He gripped harder with his fingers, pulling her closer.

He remembered.

He remembered when they'd been perfect together—he'd been human, there had been nothing between them. When he had stubbed his toe, he'd yelped and hopped around and she'd giggled and later that day he'd even developed a little bruise under his toenail to be proud of.

That night that they'd fallen asleep together, naked and vulnerable and completely at ease; it had been perfect. They'd woken up smiling. They'd ignored snoring and morning breath and messy hair and tangled underwear.

They'd been in love.

His hand crept upward and he let it become lost in her stiff, fancy curls. Their first time had been magical. The second time had been perfect. The third, sublime. Then he'd died.

He could feel how fragile she was in his hands; how, with one wrong movement he could break her. Things were different now, they could never be the same. He wasn't human—she was. She deserved someone who could promise to never hurt her. She deserved someone who was real.

He inhaled once more.

And then he pushed her away.

"I wish we could," he said softly, wishing desperately that he was whispering loving words into her ear. "More than anything, I wish we could."

He touched her shoulders and turned her around, facing the open field and the wide, blue sky. "I'm your past, Lana," he muttered, his lips grazing her ear. He kissed her neck, softly, a barely-there kiss.

She couldn't feel him anymore; his hands were gone from her shoulders, but she could still feel the ghost of their hug lingering nearby. She looked out at the sky, the hopeful colour stretching on forever.

Moments later, when she turned back around, searching for confirmation, for more of an answer, he was gone.

She didn't look for him. And when she returned to the wedding and walked elegantly down the isle, she said her oaths and never glanced to the audience to see if he watched.

Clark was her past.

Lex was her future.

END


End file.
